Mallory’s post inspired me, and I’m not going to lie — I’ve missed our baby bloggy, too. So I’m back, again, blah blah blah. I came across this gem while perusing the Tumbly machine and I just knew it deserved a spot on Six Words:

It’s got it all. EVERYTHING that Mallory and I have blogged against in the past! Nic Cage, Comic Sans and Papyrus, Crocs, Internet Explorer, Nickelback. It’s brillz, simply brillz. Who made this? Can we be friends? Because I’m pretty sure we have ESPN or something.

Back when we used to blog semi-regularly, when we disappeared for a while, we’d usually apologize by starting our next post with “OH HAHA HEY REMEMBER US?” But at this point it’s been nearly a year, so fuck that. Sorry we’re not sorry. We’ve been off doing, like, really important things. (No, that’s not true. But we both did start Tumblr bloggies, because, frankly, they’re easier to keep up with because all you have to do is reblog other people’s photos and nice quotes and YouTube videos and you’re under no obligation to even write six words about them. We never formally admitted that here because then it would be like Six Words was over, and I don’t ever want it to be over. WE CAN’T QUIT YOU, SIX WORDS. Now that I’ve mentioned it, though: Kathleeny can be found at everythingisavesselforgoatcheese.tumblr.com and I’m at playingthedrumswithamaraca.tumblr.com. Only one of us has a Tumblr with a six-word title, and it’s me, so I win.)

I’ve been thinking about this here neglected bloggy lately for two reasons:

On Thanksgiving, I randomly read a bunch of my old Thanksgiving posts, and then I felt all emo and missed it here.

Kathleen and I are MAJOR runners now, and when naming our team (read: just the two of us) for an upcoming race, she offered “Six Words to Run the World” as an option, and then I felt all emo and missed it here.

Now that the obligatory re-introduction part is over, let me tell you about how Kathleen and I run now. First, you should probably know that in college, Kathleen and I did a lot of powerwalking (as in we powerwalked like six times total over the course of four years) because we really hated running. We called it our P-Dubs club, and talked about making t-shirts with hilarious sayings like “Running Is for Cowards” and “Runners Find the Dead Bodies.”

Fast forward a few years, and we started running because Kathleen found a Women in Politics 5K and obviously we had to participate. An important thing happened during this run. While neither of us experienced some bullshit like a runner’s high, the race organizer people (or one of the organizers’ boyfriends who had a digital camera, because this run took place on a college campus and wasn’t very legitimate) took an epic photograph of Kathleen and me, wearing matching t-shirts and holding hands as we triumphantly crossed the finish line. (Keep in mind, this was a 5K. Kathleen’s boyfriend ran more than a 5K, uphill, to watch us run ours.)

In theory, this photo was really fucking adorable. In practice, Kathleen looks adorable and I look like a man. Two people who knew it was me said “Holy shit, you look like a dude” upon seeing the photo, and one person who saw the photo and didn’t know the back story thought it was an unattractive male acquaintance we had just been discussing. Naturally, that shit had to get FatBoothed. In all her pixelated glory, here she blows:

If a FatBoothed photo of the ugliest photo ever taken of you doesn’t keep you running, nothing will.

I know what you’re thinking, and no, you cannot have my number, and no, this is not about to become a running blog. I mostly just wanted to show you this photo and say hello. I’ve missed you.

I pretended to care about sports, like, three times. (My dad was impressed that I could describe a first down. Really, Dad? Thanks for the confidence.)

I got to hang out in Colorado for ten days with my pup and fam and two friends from home who are actually still in Denver.

I severely jammed and/or broke my toe. I was sitting upstairs in my dad’s office, minding my own business, and feeling annoyed that the Christmas socks I was wearing were toe socks. I HATE toe socks. Like pants are to your legs, they’re like prisons for your toes. Obviously, I pulled all of my toes out of the toe prison parts, so there was some extra material just flappin’ around. Then the doorbell rang, so I rang down the carpeted stairs, my feet slipped out from under me, and my right foot rammed into the wall. Then my dog started barking his head off in my face, and I almost murdered him. I had to answer the door all like, “Oh, hi, sorry, just fell down the stairs. No, I’m totally not about to cry. Haha, okay, thanks for the spiced nuts, neighbor.” Then my toe started to really hurt. Then I went on a pub crawl that involved a lot of walking. Then my toe turned sort of black. Then purple. Now it’s just sort of bulbous and can’t bend, so I’m fine, but REALLY MALLORY? You couldn’t walk for a week because you fell down the stairs wearing slippery Christmas toe socks?! Because I have a history of showing you my injuries for no reason at all, here’s a picture of the toe at its purplest. You’re welcome:

So Happy New Year’s Eve Eve, dear readers, and get excited: 2011 is going to be THE BEST YEAR EVER! You know why? It’s 2011! Which means 11/11/11 is finally coming! Which means I can have my gala! You’re all invited, so I’ll keep you posted. I seriously cannot wait.

So it turns out that I have crazy patterns when it comes to blogging. Don’t post for a month — er, or four — and then blog every day for six weeks. Now, I usually don’t go all “dear diary” on our dear readers, but I do want to share a reason for my disappearance this time:

I landed my dream job.

I did! I did! And honestly, I don’t know if I even would have gone for it if it were not for this bloggy right here. I’m not going to get in to details, but if you haven’t signed up for LivingSocial already you should. And when you get the deal emails every morning, you better think they are funny.

As always, Mallory does a fabulous job whenever I go on sabbatical. I can’t wait to sit on a couch with our matching Macs, drink wine, and co-blog again.

Guys, I know. I have posted like four times in the past year, Kathleen is officially Internet dead, I’ve missed 18 Google Holidays, all I post is videos, OUR PETS’ HEADS ARE FALLING OFF. But I don’t know…it’s hard to get out of a blogging rut! I don’t know how people with jobs and babies and stuff manage to blog and also exercise and feed themselves. It’s amazing!

My little sis just posted a link to this video on my wall, and it made me realize that I still haven’t posted this on the bloggy! I have, of course, seen it about a million times. (Sorry Mads…you’re way out of the loop.) When I recently visited Miss Mouse in NYC, we lounged in her bed and watched this maybe five times in a row. And then the day after that, I watched it about five times in a row with Debbie and Kels. I just can’t get enough. So if you’re like Maddy and have been living under a rock slash hiding from the world under your lima bean hat, allow me to introduce you to Marcel the Shell with Shoes On: